


the beginning of the end

by Iambic



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Future Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 19:14:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iambic/pseuds/Iambic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwen makes a hard choice, while the Round Table begins to fracture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the beginning of the end

Arthur does not look into the prison cell before which he paces; he glares into the darkness around him. His rumpled cloak swishes halfheartedly behind him with every turn. Other than this, and the sound of his footsteps, the dungeon is silent.

"Arthur," says the woman in the cell. Dust coats her own cloak, and straw clings to her close-curled black hair, but she sits as regally as she might on her throne. Arthur turns then to glance at her, and in his face is ambivalence, instead of the anger that Gwenivere might have expected. He ceases pacing but still says nothing for a long time, staring off into space somewhere above Gwen's head.

"What you did was stupid," he finally says, though he sounds as far off as he looks. Gwen nods anyway.

"I had to do it," she replies. She feels young again, like the girl imprisoned for a crime she never could have committed. The victim of unfair law applied without reason. But this time she chose her fate, and the law that punishes her is the law she supported, still supports. She understands her treason for what it is, and knows that Arthur finds no joy in what his own laws dictate he must do. "It will be all right," she says, just like she said a long time ago to a boy all passion and no sense, no sense at all.

She suspects Arthur needs the reassurance now just as much as Merlin needed it then. She fears that just like before, her own acceptance of fate will not temper the actions of others.

"I understand why," Arthur tells her, never dropping his eyes to her face. "Morgana didn't betray you." He voice drops then, softer, perhaps even wistful. "We all were friends once."

Neither of them say the words hanging in the air between then – _if Merlin were here_ – and then Arthur sweeps out again, snapping his gaze around as quick and cruel as a whip. Gwen bows her head and continues to understand him all too well.

\--

The guards lay no hands upon Gwen when they arrive to escort her to her end, and she walks out into the courtyard before them, head high and posture proud. She will give the people of Camelot no cause to hate their king if she can help it – these consequences she considered and accepted before freeing Morgana, allowing her adopted son into Camelot. Mordred has grown into his power by now; Gwen can recognise the compulsion to sympathise with him. She did not save him for his sake.

She wonders if he waits in the crowd even now, waiting for the last bearer of his secret to take it to her grave.

Arthur stands above, on the rampart, alone. She cannot see him, does not turn to look, but she knows the expression he wears. She saw it on his face the day Morgana flung her goblet of nullified poison in his face and stormed from the hall of the round table. She remembers it from the day Merlin left Camelot. She hopes the people gathered around will recognise his grief, and understand why this must be done.

Gwenivere never makes it to the chopping block. Hoofbeats break the solemnity of the gathering, and Lancelot gallops through the crowd, swings her up behind him. "My lord!" he shouts up to Arthur, and Gwen can hear the pain in his voice, what this action must be costing him. "I cannot let you carry this order out!"

Nothing works in Camelot anymore. Gwen looks up to finally meet Arthur's eyes, and warring with the grief she expected, the horror of Lancelot's betrayal, she can see profound relief. This shakes her more deeply than the thought of her barely-avoided death, keeps her numb and clinging blindly to Lancelot as he bears her from the courtyard, past ineffectual knights who do not try very hard to detain them.

The humanity of King Arthur's court cultivated its greatness; now Gwen fears it will also be the seed of its downfall.


End file.
